


You like giving me ulcers and gray hair punk?

by hushlittlewolf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU with bodyguard Bucky and President's son Steve, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hushlittlewolf/pseuds/hushlittlewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I told you it’s nothing, Buck." Steve’s voice was petulant and more than a little frustrated. But his lip was bleeding freely and the skin around his right eye was tight and swollen, an angry red color, and Bucky was in no mood for Steve’s shit. </p><p>"Don’t tell me it’s nothing," he snapped. He grabbed Steve’s face again, gently, fingers tucking up underneath that sharp jawline. "I found you in an alley behind a dumpster, Steve. I thought you were fucking dead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You like giving me ulcers and gray hair punk?

**Author's Note:**

> i did this for a tumblr prompt awhile back and decided to post it here :)

"You are a fucking punk, ya know that right?" 

Steve wrenched his thin jaw out from Bucky’s fingers. Blood scattered off his split lip, landing along his chin and Bucky’s wrist, and the taller man clicked in tongue in irritation. 

"Stop moving, will ya?" he griped, swiping at Steve’s chin with the calloused pad of this thumb. "Let me see."

"I told you it’s nothing, Buck." Steve’s voice was petulant and more than a little frustrated. But his lip was bleeding freely and the skin around his right eye was tight and swollen, an angry red color, and Bucky was in no mood for Steve’s shit. 

"Don’t tell me it’s nothing," he snapped. He grabbed Steve’s face again, gently, fingers tucking up underneath that sharp jawline. "I found you in an alley behind a dumpster, Steve. I thought you were fucking dead." 

"I had him on the ropes," Steve said because it was what he always said. Bucky felt fury swell in him, his bones groaning against the pressure…before it all fell away. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the top of Steve’s head, pressing the smaller man into the large bathroom mirror at his back. 

"Sure ya did. Sure ya did, Steve." He sighed again and clenched his eyes shut. 

"Why couldn’t you just stay at the Gala huh? You like getting beaten up in D.C. alleyways? You like giving me ulcers and gray hair punk?"

Steve scoffed and yanked on a lock of Bucky’s hair, uncurled and wavy now that Bucky had worked the gel out by pulling on it with worried fingers. “Shut up, jerk. If you have a gray hair, I ran track in high school.” He tugged on Bucky’s hair again, but then his fingers turned softer, combing through gently, petting Bucky’s scalp. 

A moment passed. Then, “Why’d you ditch me, Stevie?  _Again.”_

"I’m sorry, Buck," Steve muttered. He did sound contrite, and Bucky thought he felt a kiss against his hair. "I just…couldn’t breathe in there. It was so hot, and it seemed like every woman was wearing the same god awful perfume. I needed some air." 

"So you should have taken me with you,"  Bucky said, suddenly angry again. He lifted his head and looked Steve dead in the eye. "That’s my  _job_ you, asshole.”

Steve’s mouth twisted sharply at the sides. “I’m sure my father will forgive you. This isn’t the first time I’ve snuck off and gotten in trouble after all.”

Bucky scowled. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Steve, and you know it.” Steve tilted his chin up, bracing himself, ready to argue…but Bucky just dropped his head and nuzzled against his neck and Steve had no fight left. 

"I have to protect you," Bucky whispered to the skin fluttering wildly over Steve’s pulse. "No matter what." He pressed a soft kiss there, and Steve felt his mouth fall open. Bucky moved farther north and ghosted a kiss against the purple bruise on the hinge of Steve’s jaw. "I don’t know what I’d do without you, punk." 

"There were these women," Steve mumbled defiantly. "Outside the gala. Some douchebags wouldn’t leave them alone. I had to do something, Buck." 

"I know," the other man groaned. "I know you did because that’s so  _you,_ Steve. That’s why you’re going to become President one day and save the world.”

Steve frowned sharply, as usual hating being compared to his father in any way. “I’ve had enough being President’s  _son;_ I don’t ever want the actual position for myself.”

"Fine," Bucky conceded. "So you’ll be Superhero Steven Grant Rogers, defender of the poor, weak, and drunk. I can see the comics now."

"Shut up," Steve said again, and this time he followed through by pressing his mouth against his bodyguard’s. 

"Promise to stop ditching me," Bucky murmured against his tongue, just as he always did. Steve bit his lower lip and used his legs to pull the other man flush against the counter he was sitting on. "I’ll fight 1000 douchebags for you; I’ll go with you wherever you want. Just please…don’t make me find you behind a dumpster again."

Bucky’s fingers trailed gently across Steve’s black eye, along the bump on the back of his head. “Promise me,” he whispered, kissing Steve so thoroughly the smaller man could scarcely think. 

"I’m promise, Buck, I promise. Now just  _kiss me.”_

Bucky followed that order but only that order for the rest of the night. He didn’t listen when Steve told him to undress him or fuck him against the counter. He didn’t listen when Steve told him to  _put him down_ as Bucky carried him into the shower and bathed him gently. He certainly didn’t listen when Steve tried to cajole him into mutual blowjobs. 

Instead, he set Steve on his king sized bed—so big for someone so small but Steve Rogers was a blanket hog and had managed to push Bucky out of bed on many occasion so don’t let his size fool you—and pressed kisses everywhere he could reach. He laved at the brushes along Steve’s prominent ribs and sucked softly on the split skin of Steve’s knuckles. He rubbed ointment onto the abrasions and brought an ice pack for the lump on Steve’s head. 

_"What did he hit ya with that was harder than your head?"_

_"I think that will be all, Sergeant Barnes. You may leave."_

_"Aww, don’t be like that, Stevie. You know I love you."_

And Steve did know it. He had known it since they were 15 and his father was running for President the first time, Bucky’s mother running as VP.

He had known it when Bucky had kissed him fiercely when they were 18, pulling Steve into bed with passionate touches and painful kisses that were all trying to mask the fact that he was shipping out in the morning. 

He had known it when Bucky came back 2 years later, one arm short, and slipped into his apartment at night, promising to the jut of Steve’s collarbone that he wound never leave him again. 

Steve had known that Bucky Barnes loved him for the better part of ten years, and he saw it every time Bucky found him in some stupid alley, concerned and wild and  _loving._

Steve had known Bucky loved him almost as long as he knew he loved the other man back. 

That night, the two of them fell asleep with Steve tucked against Bucky’s chest, breathing shallowing but  _god bless_ still breathing. Bucky pressed a soft kiss against Steve’s brow and silently vowed to get the punk a tracker. 

Something small and inconspicuous. 

Maybe like a ring. 

Maybe like the ring that was in Bucky’s pocket, somewhere on the floor. 

He’d talk to Stark about it. 

If Steve said yes. 

* * *

_He said yes._


End file.
